Jeremy's Bike Blog

I upload my previous post from Lupe’s and then cycle the last 8 miles to Maria and Art’s place in Catilina, which, turns out is a town separate from Tuscon by about 20 miles.  Their place is up a bluff in a new, nicely executed housing development where the yards sport native cactus in well manicured gravel. It’s Saturday and Maria won’t be back from her roadtrip with friends to the Georgia O’Keefe gallery in Santa Fe until Sunday, coinciding with my original, and turned out way late, ETA.  Art answers the door with a “Hey Buddy”, puts out his hand and when I do the same to shake, he pulls me in for a bear hug as I apologize for being a sweaty mess.  He brushes this off as he takes me in, and within about 30 seconds I somehow feel completely at home.  Within 3 minutes I’m showering and finally becoming a fully hydrated human again.  Within another 3 minutes I’m sprawled out on their guest room bed and I’m asleep by 2 in the afternoon.  Considering we’d only just met, these numbers are a testament to how hospitable Art is (and not to what an inconsiderate freeloader I am).

Other than the cheap motel my first night in Flagstaff, I haven’t slept in a bed since the night after White Rim, in Moab, about 3 weeks ago.  It’s also the 6th time I’m sleeping in a bed since I left Seattle on April 7.  I’m making up for a shortage of the kind of deep sleep that you can only get in a truly comfortable bed in quiet room within a home.

We have a nice Italian dinner out, then a beer back at the house, and then I’m soon off for more delicious sleep.  The next day we go out for breakfast, then back at the house, I do Duolingo and take a cat nap in an outdoor sofa in the back yard under an awning.  I wake up at noon and Art suggests we go see some stuff in town.  We jump in his truck and he takes us out to see the Mission San Xavier del Bac.

 

From there, we feel our way out to the road that takes us up Kits Peak, where we marvel at how far the views extend and check out some of the telescopes, including this big one the has a big shaft coming up out of the hilltop diagonally atop of which is a mirror that tracks the sun to shoot it’s reflection down the shaft and through a series of additional mirrors and instruments.

We get home around 6 and watch some of a broadcast of The Outlaw Jesse Wales in the background while we read and putter on our phones.  I’ve never actually seen it before, and it’s pretty good, for a western watched in the background.  As far as I can tell, it’s mostly about how good Clint Eastwood as Jesse Wales is at spitting black stuff on things and putting bullets in people.

Maria gets home from her road trip, and we enjoy animated conversation about all number of things through dinner up until I can resist the beck and call of the comfy bed no longer.

The next morning, I enjoy a bonus shower, re-pack, and then chat with Art and Maria over coffee.  Art takes off to work on a project, and then Maria and I say our farewells as I load up my bike.

I feel completely re-energized, as much as if I had just spent the same 48 hours with family, while at the same time, I’m excited to have two wonderful people as new friends.

I head to Trader Joes and load up on the standard fuels, adding another 1.6L to my water carrying capacity, bringing my total to 7.1L.  I fill at every opportunity, and the level of water on hand never goes below 3.5L.  I’m paralleling the interstate, and the going South from Tuscon is nowhere near as remote and sparsely populated with services as the road was coming into Tuscon (Catalina) from the North.

I call Rodney who work’s at Sal’s bike shop in Nogales AZ, on the border to Mexico.  I’ve found him on Warm Showers, which is like Couchsurfing, but specific to bicycle tourers. He’ll be happy to host me and relay his learnings from other cyclists the following day when I’m due to get there.

I ride a long stretch of trail that runs between the dry Santa Cruz River and the interstate, and it’s got exercise stations with chin-up bars and the like.  Shortly after that ends, I get on a road that’s leading to a cluster of medium size towns.   I haven’t been more than 20 minutes from a watering opportunity, nor have I been out of cell signal, as far as I can tell.

It’s getting to be the time of day when I find a place to crash for the night, and while there’s no shortage of well groomed orchards (of what, I’m not sure), those are private property and I’d probably feel better camping roadside than trespass into an orchard.  Though they do look inviting.

Then I come upon Quill Creek Veterans Municipal park.  It has a fantastic playground with implements I can use to hang from the hands or legs, and otherwise stretch myself out after 6 hours on the bike, and I’m doing that and thinking about staying there for the night when a mom rolls up with two boys.  I don’t really feel like interacting, so I give them a wide berth.  Then I decide maybe I should move on.  Further on, it’s just getting more developed, with more orchards.  The sign with the park rules doesn’t entirely specify if camping was not allowed.  It does say that hours were sunrise to sunset, but also that no overnight vehicle parking is allowed, which seems specific enough to imply that overnight bike and butt parking is allowed. It also said to call if there were questions, and contemplating this as I was riding further on, I decided to call, but got only an automated message that didn’t help.

So I decide that at this point I can plausibly claim that I thought it would be fine, if anybody does come by.  So, I go back, and make dinner in the picnic table area by the playground.  The mom and boys leave as the sky darkens.  I’m eating and monitoring activity.  A green Kia Cube thing comes, stays over on the other side of the park for a while with the lights on, then leaves.  Maybe they locked the gate?  No, next a police car comes and does the same pattern of pull in, idle for a few minutes, then leaves.  All the while I’m in pretty plain view, albeit in increasingly dim light, and about 50 yards away.  I consider approaching the cop and asking what he thinks the rules specify w.r.t. me crashing there, but decide not to.  After he leaves, it’s about 8:30pm when a third car pulls in.  They pull right up to the playground area, and almost certainly see me from their car where they sit, idling, with the lights on, illuminating the playground directly and me somewhat indirectly.  At this point, I’m pretty committed to staying somewhere in the area, but clearly I’m not going to have the run of the place.  I load up my bike and ride across their beams and over toward the restrooms.  I forgot to mention, this place has working water fountains and immaculate bathrooms.  I use one of them, then I go to grab my toothpaste and stuff, and when I go to open the bathroom door again, it won’t.  It’s on a timer system that I just happen to have straddled with one successful attempt, and one failed one.

I ride past some wood car barriers blocking off a large stretch of parking lot that parallels two football fields, then set up camp off the edge.  I’m sure nobody will look for or find me here.  The people from the car play on the playground a bit, then leave.  Just some kids, maybe drinking.  After they leave, I decide to ride over through brush I can’t really make out and enjoy another push/pull/stretch session.  On my way back, I notice my front tire is gone flat.  Serves me right, tromping through thorny brush like that.  I’ll deal with it in the morning.

I’m on my pad, in my bag, watching birds fly around eating moths that are attracted to the powerfully bright lights that light much of the football (sized) fields and that will stay on all night.  No matter.

I get to sleep, but at about 4am, I hear sprinklers.  At first, they look well tuned to water the field, and not outside the fence up against which I’m sleeping, but somehow, after a couple of oscillations they start to breach, and I’m sprayed.  I move my setup another 10 feet away (as far as I can go on flat) and again I’m fine for several oscillations then I’m sprayed again.  Somehow the water pressure is fluctuating.  Oh well, a little water never hurt, and I just resign myself to possible future sprays, but no more come.  That row of sprinklers stop, and the next one starts, well out of range, but now the sky is peanut butter and grape jelly: sunrise is imminent.

When there’s enough light to clearly see everything, I get up, take my front wheel off, grab my tools and patch kit, then start fixing my flat from bed.

Before the sun is all the way up, there’s a team of 3 workers about 10 yards away, driving posts and doing improvements to the already immaculate park.  The budget on this place must be through the roof.

I continue working on my things, they work on their thing, and nobody is fussed one way or the other.  They give so few shits about me that after I’m done fixing my front tire (and fender) and oiling my chain and am ready to switch to packing up and gearing up, I go ahead and change out of my underwear and into my bike shorts, albeit in one fell swoop, without feeling the need to make any effort to conceal.  I roam round the park once I’m packed, hitting the restroom, then the playground.  The workers smile and say good morning with thick accents as I pass them one by one.

I ride to a Safeway that’s about 7 miles away, eat a breakfast of greek yogurt and granola, and am about to head out when an older guy who is also eating at the Safeway-provided picnic tables starts asking me about my trip, and telling me about his world travels.  I pause him to grab a coffee from the starbucks inside, then spend about 40 minutes listening to his accounts of cruises and travel that is a far cry from how I travel.  He seems to really appreciate the company, and offers me a place to crash, but alas, I have a place arranged, and it’s 45 miles further on.  I ask him to take his picture, and he grimaces and declines.  At least I tried, and I get a dose of rejection therapy!  I give him one of my contact info slips and ask him to friend me on facebook, and when he admits he doesn’t know how, I find him using my FB app and send a friend requests.  He only has one other FB friend so far.  Here’s to hoping I become his second.

For long stretches, there is literally no alternative to cycling on interstate 19, and so for the first time this tour, on my last day in the USA of this tour, I’m riding interstate shoulder for 10+ mile stretches.  A(nother) dead snake startles me as I’m in heads down mode.  It’s largely monotonous riding up to Nogales, where I head to Sal’s Cycle Shop and meet Rodney.  He’s an interesting mix of gear head, gun nut, and good samaritan.  His shop has a “Support Your Police” spray-paint stencil hanging in the front passage, and he’s wearing a Cheech and Chong shirt.

He’s gone off to tend to some business, and left me with full access to his shop.  He should be back in a bit, at which time the plan is to share a beer and pick his brain for what he’s learned from other bike tourers he’s hosted.  Then I’ll sleep in the shop (the original ask was to sleep outside) per his and his business partner Richard’s suggestion/offer.

Tomorrow, Richard will come by to open shop at 9am and make us some coffee.  After that, I’ll get an early-ish start for my border crossing.

Arizona route!

I’m excited to be going international!!